


Starving Till I Tasted You

by Mordhena



Series: Starving til I tasted you [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Gabriel/Sam - Freeform, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sabriel - Freeform, True Love's Kiss, Tumblr Prompt, sam/gabriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: Written in response to a Tumblr Prompt by the-prompterPrompt #575Imagine Sam finally moves on about Gabriel dying but Gabriel suddenly appears."That guy was definitely hitting on you, Sam!""He was trying to get inside my head. That's how you win at pool."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With huge thanks, and my deepest appreciation to my beta reader under_a_grey_cloud  
> She deserves so much more than my feeble thanks.

"That guy was definitely hitting on you, Sam!"

Sam looked at his brother and quirked an eyebrow. "He was trying to get inside my head. That's how you win at pool."

Dean chuckled as he fished the car keys out of his pocket. "If you say so." He unlocked the driver's door and leaned over to lift the passenger button. "He was kinda cute, though. You shoulda got his number."

"Unlike you, I don't feel the need to sleep with everyone who looks at me sideways," Sam replied. "Besides, it's-"

"If you tell me it's too soon one more time, Sammy, I'm gonna bitchslap you. He's been gone what, five years now? He ain’t coming back."

"Six," Sam murmured. "Six years since..." He can't even say Gabriel's name.  

"Yeah, but _who's_ _counting_ , right?" Dean shook his head, started the engine.

Sam turned his face to the window. He huffed a breath.  

"Oh well," Dean said. "Maybe the dude'll call _you."_

Sam whipped his head around. " _What_?”

Dean glanced at Sam, turned his attention back to the road. "What?"

"Dean, did you give him my _number_? Fuck it! How many times have I told you not to _do_ that shit?"

"It's for your own good, Sammy."

"No. It's... it's invasive, manipulative and... _fuck_!" Sam scowled at his reflection in the window. "You're such an _ass!"_

Silence.

A few minutes later, Dean turned the car into the bunker's driveway. "C'mon, even _you_ gotta admit, the dude was smoking hot. I thought you had a thing for-"

"Don't. Okay? Just don't!" Sam grabbed the door handle and climbed out of the car before Dean had even opened the garage door.  

He'd dated _one_ guy in the time since Gabriel sacrificed himself for the Winchesters. A sweet young Colombian called Fox. The 'relationship' had lasted all of three weeks before Fox ended it, because Sam was obviously pining for someone else.

It's not like there'd even been anything between Sam and Gabriel. A circumstance Sam had beaten himself up over for far too long. He'd had his pride. His goddamned mulish, stubborn pride. Gabriel tried more than once to get Sam to date him, and Sam turned him down flat every time. Denying himself because of a stupid grudge about the whole Mystery Spot fiasco.  

That old saying you don’t know what you've got till it's gone. It haunts him.

**~~-CCC~~ **

_"Sam, Dean, you're probably wondering what the hell's going on."_ Gabriel, dressed as a hotel bell hop, wearing a ridiculous fake mustache, speaks from the screen of Sam's iPad. _"Well..."_ He removes the mustache and tosses it aside. _"If you're watching this, I'm dead."_

Sam closed his eyes briefly. There has never been a time when hearing those last two words didn't stab him in the chest. He bit his lip and continued to watch as Gabriel made light of his demise in his inimitable way. It was exactly that cavalier approach to life and death that had both driven Sam insane, and irresistibly drawn him to Gabriel. Sam paused the video as Gabriel gazed soulfully into the camera. _Maybe irresistibly is the wrong word._ He'd resisted Gabriel at every turn.

He stared into the champagne eyes of the archangel on the screen and silently prayed.  

_Gabriel, if you're alive. Please. Please... hear this. I'm sorry. I was an idiot. I couldn't see past..."_ Sam huffed irritably and tossed the iPad onto his bed. He’d prayed that same apology over and over for six years and Gabriel had never answered. What made him think tonight would be any different?

Sam stretched out on the bed, and closed his eyes. After a few moments, as he relaxed into sleep, his hand slipped from where it rested on his belly his fingers landing on the iPad screen.

_"And Dean? You were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother. Well. Not anymore."_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, you’re not even dressed yet? We’re gonna be late!” Dean poked his head into Sam’s room. “I wanna get a table tonight!”

Sam sighed as he pulled a shirt over his head. “It doesn’t make any difference where we sit,” he said. “You devour your burger and fries just as fast at a table as on a bar stool.” Sam wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to the bar. This was their regular pool night, and, okay, they needed the money, but if he had his way, Sam would prefer to stay home and read a book. His heart just wasn’t in any kind of socialisation these days. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. The brown shirt looked all wrong. He tugged at the hem, wrinkling his nose.

 “Guh! You’re such a _girl!_ You look fine. Get your jacket, c’mon!” Dean grabbed Sam’s denim jacket and threw it at him before he chivvied him out the door.

Dean started bitching the minute they pulled into the parking lot at Benny’s. Space was at a premium and Dean cruised three rows of parking spaces before he slotted the Impala in between a Dodge and two motorcycles.

“If you hadn’t spent all that time on your hair and makeup…”

“Dean, shut up! What are you, twelve? Can’t you come up with any original insults?”

“My insults are classics, dude!”

Sam climbed out of the car, shivered in the crisp evening air. “Let’s just get inside, okay?”

As was usual for a Friday night, Benny’s was packed to the gills with customers. The jukebox was barely audible over the general buzz of conversation. A pack of bikers sprawled out at one of the booths, their legs sticking out from under the table, making the waitresses’ job more hazardous than usual.

The regular pool players were present, and a few folks obviously just passing through. Behind the bar, Benny served drinks, kept an eye out for his girls and held things together with an alacrity suited to someone half his age.

Not that Benny Lafitte was _old_. No one would dare suggest that. He had the powerful build and keen eyes of a man perfectly suited to the liquor trade, and a baseball bat under the bar to take care of what he called ‘the rowdier element.’

Sam understood why Dean liked this place, but sometimes Benny’s was just a shade the wrong side of rough for him.

Failing to find a table, Dean pushed through the crowd to the bar. Sam followed him.

“What c’n I do y’for?” Benny’s Louisiana drawl cut across the noise, seemingly without effort.

Dean ordered two beers; a burger and fries for himself, and then looked at Sam.

“The same,” Sam said, earning a doubletake from Dean. “Extra salad on the burger.”

“You hadda spoil it, didn’t you?” Dean shook his head.

Sam shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t tell _you_ what to eat.”

“You _so_ do!” Dean snorted and picked up the beer Benny put in front of him. He took a long pull of it and then turned to survey the room. He elbowed Sam. “Hey, the cute dude’s here again!”

“Dean!” Sam scowled, grabbed a napkin off the bar to mop at the beer on his jacket. “Seriously, can you grow up? We’re not in high school, and I told you I’m not- “

Sam followed Dean’s gaze more as a means to shut his brother up, than from any interest. The guy was small, compared to Sam, but then, who wasn’t? About five-eight, slim, with a mop of tight, dark curls on his head, and eyes so dark brown they appeared black in the low light of the bar. His teeth flashed white and strong against his olive skin as he joked with a companion standing near the tables.

“He’s just your type,” Dean said. Sam shook his head.

“He’s so not!” Sam watched as the guy took a shot, extricating himself from a complex snooker. “He can play though. Might be worth taking on for a game.”

The arrival of their food meant that Dean forgot about goading Sam to hit on the guy. Sam tucked into his burger and fries, relieved that his brother had let the matter drop.

 

 

 ~~ **CCC**~~  

Sam woke the next morning with a dry mouth and a spinning head. It felt like a hangover, but he didn't think he'd drunk all that much. He didn't normally when hustling pool. Too much alcohol ruined his A game. He rolled over and sat up. The iPad slipped to the floor with a dull thud and Sam bent to retrieve it, noticing that the screen still displayed the video app and a close-up of Gabriel's face. He’d fallen asleep pining over the angel yet again. Sam sighed, hit the sleep button and plugged the iPad in to charge before he got up and headed for the bathroom.

Dean was in the kitchen frying bacon when Sam emerged. Castiel stood by the table, looking awkward. Sam greeted the Seraph with a nod, and a quiet, "Hey, Cas." To which the angel inclined his head. Sam smiled. After years of friendship, countless hunts together, Castiel hadn't lost any of his formality. Such a contrast to Gabriel's sass, or Lucifer's menace. Still, it was what made Cas, _Cas._ Sam liked it. He poured coffee from the pot on the stove and sat at the table.

"We got anything on?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "Breakfast," he replied. "Not much on the radar right now."

"Crowley is pursuing a lead," Castiel added. "I will know more soon, I hope."

Sam nodded, sipped his coffee. He declined a helping of bacon and eggs when Dean was serving up. "I'm gonna go for a run," he said. "I'll eat after."

"Your choice. All the more for me." Dean piled an indecent amount of the cured meat on his plate and added two eggs and a slice of toast, before smothering the lot in maple syrup. Sam shook his head. He glanced at Castiel.  

"You do keep an eye on his arteries, right?"

"What?" Castiel looked at Sam. "Oh! Yes, of course."

Sam chuckled and got to his feet.  "Back soon."

The morning air was crisp with the onset of fall. Sam loved to run this time of year and the earlier in the day, the better. He could let his body move on auto-pilot while he used the time to think, or listen to a favorite podcast or playlist.

He quickly settled into a rhythm, his long strides carrying him away from the bunker toward a small hill that he liked to run up to the top. The view was good, and he could incorporate some yoga into his workout.

 

 ~~ **CCC**~~  

 

On the etheric plane, Essence drifts. It is aware, but unconscious for a long time. It has no name it is not contained.  It feels itself expanding, growing ever larger, fading in and out of awareness. If it were to ascribe form to itself, it might posit that it was a wavelength.

It was contained, previously. This, it understands, but something happened. Something sudden and catastrophic whic propelled it forth from those constraints and into this…existence. It has no powers of reason to deduce _what_ has happened. Essence doesn’t mind. It’s not of import.

A long time later, it attempts to define itself. Presumably _to_ itself as it is not aware of any other presence.

_I am everywhere and nowhere. I am everything, I am nothing. I am in all things, before all things. I am above, below and beyond all things. I AM!_

Consciousness awakens: _Oh, get a grip! who do you think you are? God?_

 _Who said that?_ Essence oscillates in space, its insubstantial version of ‘looking around.’ It puzzles for a moment over what the term looking around means, but it is distracted from pursuing that line of thought.

 _I said that…well **I said it** , but I’m you, I think. I mean, we’re kinda supposed to be one and the same, but we got separated. Do you wanna know how long it’s taken me to **find** you? _ Consciousness has a sharp tongue, and its tone is both grating and pleasingly familiar. Essence reaches for it.

_I am not God. God is…_

Consciousness interrupts: _Tatti, Tad, Baba, Vejo, Otec…Douche-bag! You know. Dad?_

 _Father._ The essence corrects.

_Well, if y’wanna get all formal about it. Anyway. Now that I found you? We probably should try to get together. I mean that in the purest sense. See. I’m dead without you and…that sucks. I want to go back to earth. We were in the middle of somethi-_

_Earth?_ Conscious speaks in riddles which Essence cannot fathom.

_Oh, brother! Earth. Planet Earth, remember? You and me? We hooked up somewhere in Sumer way back when; you promised me eternal life. Right now, you’re in breach of your contract, bucko. So…grace, meet vessel. Hop aboard!_

_Vessel!_ Essence knows that word. It snatches at it, and simultaneously rushes towards Conscious. _Yes. I know Vessel._

_Good, c’mon. The meter’s ticking!_

Essence and Conscious merge, but something is still missing. Essence is confused, for a moment, worried, but Conscious envelopes him in reassurance and they no longer drift. Movement takes on purpose. They have a destination.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Another Friday, another night at Benny’s, another interminable round of pool. Sam sighed and closed his eyes. It seems unfair that the world at large is so _normal_ when _his_ world shattered years ago and has never recovered. He eats, he sleeps, he hunts. On Fridays he and Dean come to Benny’s and play pool, it’s all just automatic.

Sam recalled the semester of English Literature he took in college. They’d read Macbeth, or _The Scottish Play_ as his professor insisted on referring to it. One speech from the play replays itself in Sam’s head.

 

_Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,_

_Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,_

_To the last syllable of recorded time;_

_And all our yesterdays have lighted fools_

_The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!_

_Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,_

_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,_

_And then is heard no more. It is a tale_

_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_

_Signifying nothing._

 

“You planning to take a shot?”

Glancing up, Sam met his opponent’s gaze.”What?”

“Your turn, dude.”

"Right." Sam studied the table. Damn, the kid had him well snookered. The cue ball rested against a cushion near a corner pocket. Both the 8 ball and his opponent’s final solid blocked it, killing the chances of a clear shot at any of the stripes which somehow had gotten annoyingly bunched at the other end of the table. Sam bit his lip. He could just _hear_ Dean, now.

 _"You let him get you in a corner, Sammy?!_ _Just **how** long have you been playing pool now?"_

Nothing for it. He had to bounce the cue ball off the cushion, and hope that it would ricochet back and at the very least _contact_ a stripe, if it didn't pot one. He leaned over the table to make his shot. He glanced up towards the bar, his eye caught by a flicker of movement. Sam startled mid strike, his cue skidding sideways across the cue ball and sending it spinning against the black. The 8 tipped the solid and spun away into a side pocket.

“Fork it up,” his opponent said, grinning. Sam heard Dean groan. He straightened, blinking, his eyes desperately scanning the drinkers at the bar. He could have sworn...

"Are you kidding me _?_ Dean was at Sam's side in less than five seconds. "How the _hell..."_

Sam caught sight of a guy with brown wavy hair pushing his way through the crowd towards the exit. He shoved his cue into Dean's hands. "Can you settle up? I... I gotta..." He took off after the guy he had glimpsed, ignoring Dean's exasperated voice, letting it fade out behind him.

Outside, a gust of cool night air fanned Sam's cheeks and lifted his hair away from his face. He looked left and right. No sign of the guy he'd followed. He jogged out to the roadside, frowning. His heart pounded against his ribs. "It was him," he muttered. "It had to be..." The street was quiet, deserted. No cars, no pedestrians. "Damn..."

"What the hell was that back there?" Suddenly Dean was next to him, shouting. "You realize you just lost us two weeks’ worth of money? Dammit, Sam! What's gotten into you? What if we'd been on a hunt... you distracted like that? You could get one of us killed! I can guarantee it wouldn't be _your_ lanky ass either... Sam... Sam! _Sammy!"_

Sam shook himself, coming back to the present. "I... I'm sorry."

"Damn right you're sorry! What happened?" Dean's momentum began to slow down.

"I don't know. I thought... I thought I saw." He shook his head. "It was nothing. C'mon." He headed for the Impala.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dean grabbed him. "We're not done here. You’re gonna try and get our money back!"

 

 

~~**CCC** ~~

 

Later that night, Sam sat on his bed staring at Gabriel's face on his iPad. It was strange to look at him so still. In life, Gabriel had been boundless energy wrapped up in ceaseless movement. Like the wind in fall. All golden and brisk. Sam hit play, watched Gabriel move across the screen. He huffed out a breath. _This is stupid,_ he told himself. _Dean's right, I'm letting the past distract me. It cost us money tonight, and sooner or later, it's gonna cost something we really can't afford._ Gnawing his bottom lip, Sam closed the video app. He went to the home screen and stared at the Casa Erotica icon for a long time until, with a decisive stab of his finger, he activated the delete function and x'ed the app off the screen.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," he murmured. "I hafta let go. I hafta move on."

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I found a series on Netflix we haven’t seen,” Dean said as Sam walked into the living room the following morning after his run. “Set in a women’s prison, some chick got caught running drugs.” He waggles his eyebrows. “There’s girl on girl action.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Orange is the New Black? Wasn’t Cas watching that?”

“Who d’you think told me about the hot chick sex?”

“Cas? Really?”

“Well, admittedly he said that was what made it inappropriate.”

Sam snorts with amusement. “I’m gonna shower.” He heads for the bathroom.

“Oh, that old burner of yours was ringing,” Dean called after him. “I answered, but whoever it was, they didn’t wanna talk to me. No caller ID.”

“Thanks, I’ll check it.” Sam walked into his room, frowning. He hadn’t given out the number for that old phone in years. He didn’t know why he even kept it. _Well, maybe I do…”_  The phone had at least one old voicemail from Gabriel on it. He really ought to delete the message if he was serious about moving on.

Sam reached into the top drawer of his dresser and extracted the phone, musing that the fact it was even kept charged probably spoke more volumes than he’d care to read right now. The screen listed two calls, and one new voicemail. Sam thumbed the button to dial the mailbox.

_“Hey, Sam…”_

At the sound of the caller’s voice, Sam’s heart stopped beating for a full three seconds. When it resumed, it was racing. Sam closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. The caller continued to speak, but Sam couldn’t hear over the buzzing in his ears. He sank down on the edge of his bed. The hand grasping the phone dropped away from his ear, his fingers slackening their grip so that the phone clattered to the floor, unnoticed.

“It can’t be,” Sam whispered. “It can’t be…”

He sat, for a long moment, staring into the distance as his heart thumped painfully against his ribs. Slowly, his eyes regained focus and tracked across the floor to the phone. He bent to retrieve it. Put it to his ear. All he heard was a busy tone. He redialed the mailbox.

_“Hey, Sam! It’s me. Well, it’s sorta me! I’m the vessel you knew as Gabriel. My name was Näshä before his angelic assholeness convinced me to buddy up with him. Listen, there’s a lot I need to tell you. Can we meet someplace? I know you’re in Kansas now. I managed to figure that out. Sorry to pop up like this, unannounced and... undead, but of the options I had, this one seemed the least likely to kill you from shock. If you’re not in the ICU call me? My number is 619-555-8185. Talk soon, I hope.”_

Sam grabbed a pen and scribbled the number on a notepad he kept by his bed. He closed the phone and stared at the notepad for a long time. Eventually, he slipped the burner phone back into the dresser drawer and stretched out on his bed. He’d prayed for this to happen for six years. Now that it had, though, Sam found himself frozen, unable to respond. His dearest wish had just been granted and he was terrified. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, staring at the microcracks in the aging drywall. _I don’t have to do anything right now,_ he told himself. _I’ll call him later._


	5. Chapter 5

 

Sam’s heart pounded so hard that he could barely breathe. He stood on the pavement outside the diner where he’d arranged to meet Näshä. For the third time, Sam took a deep breath, willed his heartbeat to calm down, and started to walk towards the entrance. He’d already balked twice opening the door to step inside. _Sack up!_ He told himself. _You’re a hunter, for god’s sake. You’ve faced worse than this in your lifetime and will again._ Squaring his shoulders, Sam pressed a palm against the door and pushed it open.

He glanced around and let out a breath. Näshä wasn’t inside. At least, no one matching the clothing description he’d given Sam was in the diner. Sam allowed his shoulders to relax a little. Maybe the guy wouldn’t show after all. Maybe he had imagined this whole thing. He let out a breath and took a seat at the counter. When the waitress offered him coffee, he nodded with a smile. “Thanks.” He took his phone from his jacket pocket when it buzzed.

The screen displayed a text message.

_Hey, running a little late. Couldn’t get the idiot to cooperate. See you soon! N._

Sam frowned. _Idiot? What does he mean…is someone coming with him?_

“Can I get you something else?” The waitress had returned to fill his cup with coffee.

Sam nodded. He might as well eat, since it looked like he had time to kill. “Do you do a shaker salad?” The waitress nodded and Sam ordered one. “Ranch dressing, thanks.”

 

 

  ** ~~CCC~~**

 

The salad was good, and Sam had almost finished it, when the bells above the door jangled to announce a new arrival. Sam forced himself to remain facing the counter. His heart started up with the arrhythmia again, and he pressed the palm of one hand to his chest, trying to steady it.

“Hey.” That voice.

Sam closed his eyes. He hardly dared look.

“It’s me,” the voice said.

Sam opened his eyes, slowly turned his head. He swallowed hard. Champagne eyes lit with amusement, worry, and something unique to the man who owned them, gazed back at him.

“G-Gabriel?” Sam’s own eyes filled with unshed tears. He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time Sam had seen him alive. The same cheeky smile, the wavy hair, and those unique eyes. Sam suppressed a sob.

“Well… technically, no. I’m Näshä, but the angelic dick-wad’s in here…” he pointed to his left temple. “Somewhere. I’m in the driver’s seat right now, because Gabe’s a little… scrambled, I guess is a good word for it.”

Sam blinked. He nodded, dashed the back of his hand across his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No! Don’t apologize, Sam! You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. In fact, if it weren’t for you, I— _we_ wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

Letting out a breath, Sam gestured to the stool next to him. “Are you hungry…uh do you even eat?”

“ _Do_ I?!” Näshä grinned. “Just where d’you think Loki got his famous sweet tooth from?” he chuckled. “Y’know, if he hadn’t come along and asked me to accommodate him? I probably would’ve lost all my teeth a long time ago. But…” he glanced around. “Y’think we could move to a table? Too many ears here, and you don’t wanna wind up committed along with me when I get done telling my story.”

Sam stood up and led the way to a booth at the far end of the diner, well away from the counter or any other patrons. He sat and had to smother his surprise when Näshä slid onto the bench seat beside him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Näshä grinned. “I thought we could be a little more private if I’m closer.”

“No…no it’s fine,” Sam said. He watched as Näshä picked up a menu and signaled for the waitress. Sam studied the man, while he was busy perusing the menu. He almost couldn’t credit the evidence of his own eyes. So many nights he had spent staring at the 2-dimensional image, sending out prayers that seemed to fall into some abyss unheard, unanswered. Yet, here Näshä was. As large as life, and just as full of energy as Sam remembered. It was surreal.

The waitress paused by their table, notepad in hand.

“I’ll have more coffee,” Sam murmured. He felt he was going to need it. He wished he could order something stronger.

Näshä looked up from the menu. “Triple stack of hotcakes, extra syrup, maple smoked bacon, coffee and uh… bring me a couple slices of your Pecan pie for dessert.” He put the menu down and half turned on the bench seat so that he was facing Sam. He rested one hand on the table; the other arm lay along the back of the seat. “Lemme look at you.”

Sam felt heat steal into his cheeks under that frank regard.

“Gotta say, you’ve aged well, Sam. You’re even better looking than when I saw you last!”

“Uh… hm!” Sam cleared his throat nervously. He’d forgotten how forthright Gab… Näshä could be.”

“Also gotta say, I’m as glad as I can be that you never quit praying to him.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “You know about that?”

“’Course I know! I know _whatever_ he knows.” Näshä grinned. “I think I’d better start from the beginning.”

“Please.”

Näshä took a deep breath. “Okay, I was born in a city called Kish, in Sumer, Southern Mesopotamia during the Bronze age.” He grinned at Sam’s stunned expression. “Bear with me, it gets better. So, Sumer was small, but it was a big thing. It was the first civilization in the world, Sam. No small fish, right?”

Sam could only nod his assent. “Right…” he shook his head in amazement. “So, you’ve been alive for…?”

“A long time. Long enough, too long. Not long enough.” Näshä smiled. “My feelings on the subject vary.” He paused when the waitress came to set his food in front of him, and top up both their coffee cups.

“Now, where was I? Oh, right, Sumer.” He took a mouthful of food and was occupied chewing for a minute. Then, he sipped his coffee and continued. “My life was kinda crap. I mean, we were prosperous, and cultured, but compared to this age? Näshä gestured around at the diner, and outside. We had nothing. Mathematics was the biggest sensation.”

“So, how did you meet Gabriel? I mean, it doesn’t sound like your people worshipped Chuck.”

Näshä chuckled. “Not before the renaissance, anyway. Once the Semites started to move in.” He shrugged. “They brought their religion and culture with them. Along with their angels.”

Sam leaned towards him, fascinated. “What was your life like? What did you do? Were you a mathematician?”

“Oh, Sam!” Näshä waved him off with a flick of his hand. “Nothing like that. I was an _arad._ A slave!”

“Oh.” Sam blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all ancient history and besides, Gabriel came along and took me away from all that.”

“Yeah. How did that happen?”

“Oh. It wasn’t all that exciting. No biblical apparitions, no ‘fear not the lord is with thee’s’.” Näshä smiled. “At first, I thought I was losing my mind. This voice starts calling my name in the middle of the night. Our traditions didn’t go in for all that angelic visitation stuff, so I had no frame of reference. In the end, I asked him what the fuck he wanted. Kind of ‘spill or split,’ you know?”

Sam nodded and Näshä went on.

“So, he tells me that if I let him in, he can get me free. That I’ll never be enslaved again. He says he can give me power beyond anything I dreamed of. Sounded good to me. I bought in.”

“And you’ve been… his vessel ever since. All those centuries.”

“Yep! And it’s been a ride, let me tell you. But now.” Näshä sighed. “I mean, he’s still _here_ , but he’s disconnected. See, when he went to confront Lucifer, of course he left me behind. He’s a trickster. He wouldn’t go into that battle with any kind of vulnerability. I was waiting for him. I… felt it, when Lucifer stabbed him. Somehow, Luci managed to strike him, despite his tricks. He very nearly took me out, too. I don’t know how, so don’t even ask me to explain that. But Gabriel was… Well, the angels call it ‘dissipated.’ That’s kind of what happens when an angel ‘dies.’ They don’t actually _die.”_

Sam shook his head. “Wait, you’re not making any sense!”

“Sorry, kiddo. I don’t fully understand it myself. I can grasp the concept vaguely, but it’s another thing to try putting it into words. All I know is that angels are pretty much eternal. They exist outside of time and space, as these…wavelengths.”

“Yeah. Cas has said something like that,” Sam said.

“So, to enter time, they need a vessel.” Näshä indicates himself. “But being inside a vessel makes them vulnerable. They can be hurt. They can be scattered. To us, it looks like they can be killed and it’s kind of permanent. Unless…”

“Someone or something brings them back,” Sam puts in. “Like Cas.”

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, an angel with unfinished business usually winds up back where he started from. Sometimes with the same vessel, or, if the vessel was too damaged... Then, he has to find another one.”

“Right. So, Gabriel had unfinished business.”

“Nope. Once he threw down with Lucifer, to save you and Dean, that was it for him. But there’s one other way an angel can come back, and this one takes longer.” Näshä pushes his plate aside and takes another mouthful of coffee. “Prayer.”

Sam meets Näshä’s eyes. “Prayer…”

“Uh-huh. We’re back because of you, Sam.”

“But it’s been six years.” Sam bit his lip. “I didn’t think…”

“We heard every word. It just took a while for Gabriel to form enough consciousness to understand what it was. Lucifer hit him hard.” He finishes his coffee. “I heard and understood you from the start, Sam. It was thanks to you, I found the strength to recover and start looking for him.”

“Wow…” Sam drew a deep breath. His mind whirled with the information Näshä had imparted. Most of it, he couldn’t really wrap his head around. The concepts were too alien. He met Näshä’s eyes. “So, recently I thought I saw you. At least once. Maybe more.”

“You did.” Näshä bows his head. “I was going to come and talk to you one night at that pub you hang out at. But then I…”

“So that _was_ you! How…I came after you but you were…”

“Still got wings, Sam. The angel might have lost his marbles, but I still have access to the feathers.”

Sam recalled that sudden gust of wind as he stepped out of Benny’s. He nodded. “Okay. So how do I help him?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Näshä grinned. “Let’s get out of here. I think we need to find someplace more private where I can explain the next steps.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam’s Dodge Dart Demon had turned out to be the most private place in Lebanon, short of the bunker, which was hardly private because Dean was there. Sam turned toward the passenger seat and looked at Näshä.

He gazed at the man for so long that Näshä raised an eyebrow.  “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m sorry.” Sam flushed, lowering his gaze. “It’s just that you look and sound so much like Gabriel, I…”

“Technically, _he_ looks and sounds like me,” Näshä replied. “We’ve been together for so long, it’s hard to remember where one of us ends and the other begins.” He smiled. “I know this must be crazy weird for you. Look at it from my side, though. I’ve been mostly asleep since the third dynasty of Ur…and now I’m awake. Think of it like Rip Van Winkle sleeping for several millennia.” He grinned.

Sam chuckled. “When you put it like that.” He glanced around, his gaze taking in the car, the modern-day town outside the windows. “This must be an incredible culture shock.”

“Kind of, but not really. I mean, Gabriel and I share a body and mind. I might not have been fully present all these centuries, but I do have Gabriel’s memories, just like he has mine, so this isn’t as unfamiliar as it might be. For example, I know about good old Rip because Gabriel likes fairy tales.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense, I guess.” He returned his gaze to Näshä. “I’ve really missed him-you-uh…”

“Us?”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “So what do I… How can I help?”

“Help him to remember,” Näshä said.

“Gabriel has amnesia, then?”

“Yes, and no. It’s kind of like when you reboot a computer by accident. Any files you had open, files that you hadn’t saved, well, the unsaved parts are lost, right?”

Sam nodded.

“So, Gabriel’s lost some of his reference points from when he was last inside earth time.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. “So how do we get them back? I don’t suppose even an archangel has a recovery function?”

“Well, he does, but it requires input from an external source to activate, just like a computer. That’s where you come in.”

“What do I do?”

“Easy. Talk to him. Just the same way that you prayed to him and got him this far.”

“He can hear me?”

“If I give him the driver’s seat, he can hear you more clearly, but, Sam? Don’t be alarmed if he seems…different.”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “Here?”

“Maybe not such a good idea. Do you have a home-base? Somewhere that we can be a little less…” Näshä gestured to the world outside the car. “Conspicuous.”

“Yeah. Dean and I found this place… An old Men of Letters Bunker. That’s why we live in Lebanon now. We kind of made it our home-base. Warded and all. We won’t be disturbed there.”

“Sounds perfect.” Näshä smiled.

Sam started the car.

 

 

~~**CCC** ~~

 

They arrived at the bunker just around sunset. Sam pulled the Dodge into the garage and hit the remote to close the automatic doors. He and Näshä stepped out of the car.

“This is really something,” Näshä said. He stood in the middle of the garage, looking around at the assortment of vintage cars. “You two are sitting on a fortune.”

“Oh, wait until you see the library,” Sam replied. “Some of the books in there must be over a century old.”

“I once saw the library at Alexandria,” Näshä said. “Yours might not be quite as impressive.” He chuckled at Sam’s chagrined look. “Sorry. I’m showing off.” He went on, “Did you know that the Alexandrian Library was inspired by The Library of Ashurbanipal? Just think of it. Something like 20,000 to 30,000 cuneiform tablets. That’s nearly 1200 texts!”

“You’ve lost me completely,” Sam admitted. “But I’m impressed.”

They took the stairs from the garage to the bunker’s library. Sam figured it probably looked modest compared to the ancient repositories Näshä was used to. Nevertheless, he watched as Näshä perused the shelves, taking out a book and leafing through it before putting it back.

Sam glanced towards the kitchen as Dean came through the doorway. “Hey,” he said.

Dean looked up. “Oh, you’re back.” He smiled. “I was wondering how long you’d…” He trailed off as his gaze fell on Näshä. Dean stopped mid-stride and did a double-take. “ _Gabriel_?”

Näshä turned from the bookshelf he was studying. “Yes. And No.” He grinned. “I’m Näshä, Gabriel’s vessel. Gabe’s kinda…not here right now.” He paused, and then added. “Hi, Dean. Long time.”

“But how are _you_ here? Last we knew, Lucifer killed you—Gabriel—uh…”

“That’s a long story,” Sam interrupted. “Maybe we should all sit down, and Näshä can try to explain it to you, Dean…It’s kind of complicated.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded and took a seat at one of the library tables. “I’m all ears.” He looked at Sam. “How long have you known about this?”

“Not long. A few days. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew more.” Sam joined Dean and gestured for Näshä to sit. “This is gonna blow your mind,” he said.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“So, you were a slave, and then you gave yourself to an archangel for centuries…” Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s much of an improvement. Why not just escape?”

“I _did_ escape,” Näshä replied. “I could have run off, sure. But that carried the risk of being caught and punished.” He chuckled. “Punishment for runaway slaves was… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have lived to the ripe old age I am now. I had already been thrashed more than once for my mouth.”

Dean nodded. “I was wondering about that. You’re not exactly tactful.”’

“I built a career on it. Not just in Kish, but since then, too.” Näshä took a mouthful of the beer Dean had fetched for them all and continued. “At first, I was just your run of the mill house slave. But my master got tired of my sass. He sold me off to a trader and the trader bartered my pretty face to a temple priest for some kind of religious favor.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You were a temple…”

“It’s only sex, Sam. Besides, I made some good money there. I was working to buy myself out.”

“They paid you? But I thought…” Dean was looking more confused by the minute.

“You thought the tipping system was a modern invention??” Näshä scoffed. “Gimme a break! Anyway, the stuff  I learned about religion in the temple stood Gabe and me in good stead for becoming a demi-god later.”

Sam huffed out a breath. “And Gabriel chose you when you were … at the temple.”

“If you’re gonna rebel against your father, why not do it with a creature he considers worse than abominable? Sacrificial sex for the worship of idols was kinda near the top of Chuck’s ‘nope’ list. Savvy?”

“And here I thought Gabriel had a god complex,” Dean said.

“Naw, _that_ was Chuck, all the way.” Näshä finished his beer. “So, house boy to rent boy to demi-god to trickster… and now, here I am. I need to get Gabriel’s head straightened out fast. If he’s not in control, this…” he gestures at himself, “is gonna get real old, real fast. I’m subject to time while Gabriel’s offline, and I’ve had way more than my three score and ten, if you catch my drift.”

Sam nodded. “We’ll help.” He shot Dean a glance, relieved when his brother nodded in agreement.

Näshä drew a deep breath, and some of the tension seemed to ease out of his shoulders. “All right then.” He met Sam’s eyes. “I’m gonna give him the driver’s seat. I’ll be…” He pointed to his head. “In here, and I can hear and see what’s going on, so if things go sideways, I can regain control. It might take a minute though, so uh… try not to let him smite you.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Dean said.

Sam shot his brother a quelling glance and then turned to Näshä. “Okay. We’re ready.”

Näshä went very still, and seemed to turn inward for a moment. Nothing happened right away. Sam glanced at Dean and then back to Näshä. “Hello? Näshä?”

Näshä sat up straighter in his chair. His champagne eyes flashed with a cold, brilliant blue light for an instant and then he blinked. He turned to look at Sam and then took in his surroundings.

When he spoke, his voice held a completely different timbre and inflection. “Where am I?” He turned his gaze upon Sam. “Who are you?”

“Um.” Sam swallowed. He shot Dean an uncertain glance. “Gabriel? It’s me, Sam. Sam Winchester.” He gestured at Dean. “This is my brother, Dean. We… uh. We’re friends. We’re trying to help you.”

The archangel surged to his feet, his eyes flashing menace as he whirled in a circle. “This place is warded!” His flailing hand knocked his chair aside, making it skitter across the floor and splinter against a wall.

“Gabriel! You’re safe here.” Sam stood up as well. He reached to lay a hand on the archangel’s arm, but Dean got between them and knocked Sam aside.

“Don’t _touch him_ , you idiot!”

“If I am safe, then why have you warded me in?” Gabriel rounded on the brothers. “Why trap me here if you mean to help?” An angel blade appeared in his hand. He raised it, threatening. “Release  me!”

“Whoa!” Sam raised his hands, placating. “You’re not trapped. You can leave any time you like. Gabriel, Näshä brought you here. Näshä… your vessel. He said you needed our help.”

“My…vessel.” Some of the fury seemed to dissipate. Gabriel lowered the angel blade. “Näshä and I were separated. I… thought the vessel was destroyed.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Lucifer tried to kill you, and destroy your… destroy Näshä, too, but you tricked him and got away.”

“Lucifer? My brother? Why would my brother want to kill me?”

 “That’s one hell of a story,” Dean said.

Gabriel turned his eyes upon Dean for a moment and then looked at Sam. “No! You’re lying! Lucifer loves me. We are _brothers!”_ The archangel lunged at Sam.

“Shit!” Sam dived to the side with mere seconds to spare as the blade slashed at him. He felt the very tip graze his hip as he tucked and rolled across the floor. “Näshä!”

Dean was lifted and cast aside like a twig as he tried to get between the archangel and Sam. He crashed to the floor, motionless.

“Anytime you wanna get back in the drivers seat, Näshä!” Bleeding, helpless on the floor, Sam scrambled backwards as Gabriel advanced on him. “Näshä! Hurry up!” He groaned in despair as his shoulders hit a solid bookshelf.  The archangel loomed over him, his eyes dark with murderous intent as he lifted the blade.

Sam closed his eyes, praying that death would be quick. He waited for the killing blow.

Nothing happened. Sam kept his eyes closed. He didn’t dare look for the archangel.

“Well. That was awkward.” Näshä quipped, after what seemed like ages.

Sam opened his eyes to find Näshä offering a hand to help him up.

“Awkward?” Sam shook  his head in disbelief. “Not exactly the word I would’ve used.” He sighed with relief as Dean groaned, stirred and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“The next time you let The Terminator loose, we’re gonna make sure he’s on complete lockdown first.” Dean glanced at Sam. “You okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.” He brushed himself down with one hand. “I think we’ve got some warded chains in the dungeon. “They work on demons. Maybe with some modifications, we can get them to hold an archangel.”

“I can help with that,” Näshä said. “I know something that might work.”

“We need a little better than maybes,” Dean said.

“Agreed,” Sam said. “I guess we hit the books.”


	8. Chapter 8

The bunker was still and quiet as Näshä let himself out of the guest bedroom. He stood outside the door for a moment, looking both ways along the hallway before he padded on bare feet towards Sam’s door. He paused a moment, listening. He felt sure he could hear deep, regular breathing coming from inside. Drawing a breath and biting on his lower lip, Näshä gently turned the doorknob and slipped into Sam’s room.

His senses, honed through centuries of angelic possession, prickled as he froze inside the room, every nerve ending attuned for any sudden movement from the bed.

In the darkness, he saw with prefect clarity, his sight augmented by that of the celestial being he hosted. He studied Sam. The hunter was asleep, his large frame lying prone on the mattress, his face angled towards the door. One hand was tucked underneath the pillows. He looked vulnerable in sleep, almost innocent, but Näshä knew well enough that resting face concealed a man who could kill in the flicker of a moment. With that in mind, he approached the bed cautiously.

 _I’ve missed you so much,_ Näshä thought. _You don’t even know, do you Sam? Just how much I— **we** love you._

Sure, right now, Gabriel didn’t remember Sam, or their feelings for him, but Näshä did. Being so close to Sam watching him sleep, was torment. He could bear it no longer. He edged closer, making so bold as to reach out, laying a hand on the edge of the coverlet.

Sam woke instantly. In one swift movement, he caught Näshä’s wrist in an iron grip and sat up. Before Näshä could so much as flinch, a knife was at his throat.

“Sam! Sam, it’s me, Näshä!” He pulled away, trying to avoid the razor sharp blade.

“Näshä? What… what the _hell_ are you doing here?” Sam automatically slid the knife back under his pillow. “I might have killed you!”

“Probably not killed. Maimed, maybe, before Gabriel came on line to protect me.” Näshä ventured a cheeky grin.

Sam shook his head. “You should know better than to creep up on a hunter, especially when his guard is down. What do you want?”

Näshä pulled in a breath. _Here goes._ “You.”

Sam blinked. “I… what?”

“I want you,  Sam. Just as much as you want…me—him—us.”

More blinking. Näshä thought it was kind of adorable. “You look like an owl,” he said.

Sam didn’t say anything. He sat on the bed looking confused and maybe embarrassed. “You know…about…”

“Yeah. You prayed about it enough.”

Sam bows his head. “I was talking to Gabriel. I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Oh.” Näshä felt a lump of ice settle inside his heart “And I’m not _Gabriel._ I’m just some guy who has his face…actually, _he had mine_ , but…”

“No.” Sam looked up quickly. “No, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s okay,  Sam. I get it.” Näshä started to back away. “I—I’ll go. I…”

 _“Stay!”_ Sam got off the bed. He reached for Näshä both hands gripping his shoulders. “Please.”

Näshä looked up at Sam, meeting soft hazel-green eyes that glistened with unshed tears. “If you want me to, I’ll stay.”

“I _do._ I want that very much.” Sam let out a breath. “I’m in love with Gabriel, or at least, with the person I knew as Gabriel. That person is you, too,” Sam said. “I can’t separate the two. You’re his vessel, but…you’re _him_. When I think of him, I see you. When I pray to him, I see your face in my mind. When I…dream. It’s you. To me you _are_ Gabriel.” He smiled. “Only now, I know _you_ too. It’s  confusing, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Do you really think you can?” Näshä hardly breathed as he waited for the answer. He barely dared to hope.

“I know I can. You’re still the same person, uh, vessel. Being.” Sam swallowed hard. “The one I fell in love with.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Näshä’s mouth.

“Oh…” Näshä breathed.

“I love you,” Sam said as he kissed Näshä again, deeper this time.

Closing his eyes, Näshä gave himself into the gentle pressure of Sam’s mouth on his. He made a soft sound of want in the back of this throat. He parted his lips when Sam’s tongue sought entrance and their tongues slid against each other, sending ripples of delight through Näshä’s body. He reached up, lacing his fingers together at the back of Sam’s head.

The pain, when it struck, was cruel and agonizing. Näshä pulled away from Sam. He clutched at his chest and dropped to his knees on the floor. He couldn’t take a breath, couldn’t find the strength to stay upright. With a groan of anguish, he pitched face down on the floor.

“Näshä!” Sam knelt beside him. He put a hand on Näshä’s shoulder, gently rolling him onto his back. “Näshä, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“I…” Näshä gasped against the tearing pain in his chest. “I think… I’m dying.”

He could feel it. Centuries of borrowed time creeping up on him, seizing his body into cramps. Twisting his spine, shattering his limbs. It hurt to breathe, he closed his eyes, clenched his teeth against the onslaught. He looked up at Sam.

“Kill me! Please!. I…I can’t…Sam, please!”

“I can’t…I won’t.” Sam shook his head, desperately. Tears slipped from his eyes and fell onto Näshä’s face as he bent over him. “Please, Näshä. Fight it. Stay with me!”

“I…” Näshä struggled for breath. “I love you.” He closed his eyes. “Remember…”

“No!” Shaking him, Sam leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together. “No! I won’t lose you again!” He sobbed. “Gabriel! Gabriel, please, if you can hear me. It’s Sam. Sam Winchester. Help us! Help Näshä! Don’t let your vessel die! I love you, Gabriel. I can’t lose you again. Not when we only just found each other. Please, Gabriel. If you’re in there, if you …” He broke off as Näshä made a horrible gurgling sound in his throat and fell limp in his arms. The man’s face had aged, lined with years, but still as handsome as always. Silver streaks in the reddish-brown locks.

“Näshä?” Sam shook the lifeless form gently. “Näshä!”

Silence.

Sam buried his face against Näshä’s neck and wept.

 

~~****~~ ~~**CCC** ~~

 

A long time later, Sam straightened. Gently, he laid Näshä down on the floor. He reached up to the bed and grabbed a pillow, arranging it under the dead man’s head. Shaking fingers brushed across the glazed eyes, gently easing the eyelids down. He brushed strands of hair from Näshä’s face. He straightened the man’s limbs. He tidied Näshä’s clothing.

Sam worked numbly, the actions born of practice as he laid out the body, his touch reverent, his fingers caressing cooling skin, positioning the body with loving care. Soon, he would prepare a hunter’s pyre and cremate the mortal remains, but for now he wanted to be present with his loved one. He wanted to give Näshä dignity. Sam needed to do this right. He and Dean hadn’t had time to do things properly when Lucifer killed Gabriel.

This time, Sam would do what must be done. This time,  Gabriel— _Näshä—_ will have a proper funeral.

“I’ll do it right,” he murmured. “And I’ll remember you, always.”

The last thing Sam did was arrange Näshä’s hands, neatly folded on his chest. He caressed the fingers, brushed away a tear that landed on the gnarled, aged flesh. The skin felt cold and leathery to his touch. Sam closed his eyes.

After a moment he opened them. He wanted to see this. He bent down and pressed his lips against the unresponsive mouth. He lingered only a moment, and then sat up.

“I love you, Gabriel.” Sam got to his feet, headed towards the door.

Sam didn’t notice the light, at first. It started out faint, but brightened until the room was flooded with brilliant white light. Sam turned around. He lifted one hand to shield his eyes and stumbled back against the door as the light continued to intensify. The air was filled with the rushing of wings. Sam couldn’t bear to look on the radiance any longer. He closed his eyes tight.

 _Gabriel’s grace is leaving the vessel,_ he thought. Sam hunkered down against the door shielding his face with his arms.

The room shook and the air shuddered with the beating of mighty pinions. Sam cowerd. “Kill me! Don’t leave me alone.” His prayer echoed Näshä’s agonized plea minutes earlier.

“Ohhh puh-lease! Overdramatise much?!”

At the familiar, taunting tone, Sam looked up, forgetting the danger of seeing an angel in its natural state. Näshä was on his feet. He grinned at Sam, his champagne eyes alight with mischief and amusement. Except, it wasn’t Näshä. Not exactly. When Gabriel had been all but gone, Näshä didn’t radiate the power Sam felt now. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. He took a half-step towards the man—archangel.

“G…Gabriel?”

The trickster extended his arms out to the sides, grinning. “In the vessel!”

“Näshä…”

“Sorry, kiddo. He didn’t make it.” Gabriel bowed his head for a moment. “I tried. I really tried. But I just couldn’t get the connection straight in time.” He met Sam’s eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with just me now.”

“How?”

“You’re gonna think this is the corniest thing ever…”

“What? Tell me.”

“You kissed him…me…us.”

“What… but…”

“Yeah, I know! Looks like Dad has a sense of humor after all. Who would have thought that whole ‘true love’s kiss thing’ would actually reset an angel?”

“True love…” Sam spluttered. “You mean like Beauty and the Beast?”

“Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rose Red… you name it.” Gabriel shrugged. “Looks like you’re my Prince Charming!”

“Oh, God…”

“Right!”

Sam passed a hand across his forehead. His mind reeled, unable to fully process the last half hour. _Dean’s never gonna belive this_. “I need…”

“A drink? To sit down?” With each suggestion, Gabriel snapped his fingers.

Sam found himself sitting in bed with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He downed the drink in one gulp. Setting the glass aside, he looked at Gabriel. “You’re really here…this isn’t some crazy dream, is it?”

“Not a dream. Although, I must admit I _am_ dreamy!” It was true. The signs of immense age had vanished. Gabriel’s grace had restored the vessel to its former state, maybe better than before, or perhaps that was just a reflection of the power shining from Gabriel’s eyes that made him look, somehow, more youthful and radiant.

Gabriel joined Sam on the bed. “Kiss me again, find out for yourself.”

Sam nodded. He leaned in, kissed lips that were warm, alive and responsive. He drew a shuddering breath and pulled Gabriel closer. “Don’t ever die again! I don’t think I can survive losing you a third time.”

“No dying.” Gabriel replied. “Got it.” This time Gabriel kissed Sam. A kiss filled with love and longing and life.

 

 


	9. Epilogue

# Epilogue

“So, Näshä’s gone?” Dean shook  his head sadly. “That sucks. I liked him.”

“You still have me,” Gabriel replied. He swirled the last mouthful of whiskey in his glass and then drank it. “I guess I owe you both one…or several.” He smiled. “It was curtains for me after that whole Lucifer thing. If it hadn’t been for Sam’s prayers…”

“Yeah, that was all down to Sam,” Dean said. “I didn’t really do much. Hell, I spent a lot of time trying to get him to let go and move on.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Lucky for me he’s stubborn, then.” So, how much have I missed?”

Dean puffed a breath out between pursed lips. “That’s gonna take a long time to recap. The short version is the world nearly ended again. Two-maybe three times? Your dad’s sister got loose. We got Chuck to make up with her and they’ve gone off on some kind of honeymoon or something. Oh, and your brother got out of the cage, too.”

“Lucifer’s free? Damn.”

“No, he’s locked up again, but it was touch and go for a while. He possessed Cas.” Sam said.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Wow, crowded house…” He levels a look at Dean. “Why do I get the feeling you haven’t even told me the half of it?”

Dean sighed. “Fact is, while Luci was topside, vessel hopping, he got a woman pregnant.”

“And you _killed_ that woman, right?”

“Not…exactly,” Sam said.

“So there’s a nephillim with Lucifer’s lineage in the wind… This gets better by the minute.” Gabriel sighed. “I’m starting to see _why_ I had to come back.”

“So how did that actually work? You haven’t told me.” Dean glanced from Gabriel to Sam and back.

“I prayed!” Sam put in quickly.

“And he…” Gabriel broke off at a speaking glance from Sam.

Watching them, Dean narrowed his eyes. He knew his brother well enough to spot when Sam’s trying to hide something.  He sensed that this particular something was juicy.

“Sam?” Dean said.

“It’s not important, Dean.”

“Aw c’mon, Sammy! I know you’re holding out on me now.”

Sam closed his eyes, defeated. “I kissed him,” he mumbled.

“You what?”

“I said I _kissed him_ , Dean! And somehow, by some crazy kind of cracked reasoning of Chuck’s it was enough to bring him back! And before you even get started on…”

“Hey! Whoa!” Dean held up both hands in surrender. “I didn’t  say anything. I wasn’t _going_ to say anything!” He held Sam’s gaze steadily watching as his brother visibly relaxed, easing back in his chair. Dean stifled the grin for as long as he could.  “But you gotta admit. You playing Prince charming? Dude, I’m _so much_ better suited to that role! I’m the pretty one.”

“Dean, you…” Sam half rose from his chair leaning across the table, his eyes flashing with irritation.”

“Bzzzzt! Wrong!” Gabriel said. He looked into Dean’s eyes. “Pretty is one thing, but it’s not just about looks. Belle fell for the Beast, remember?” He shifted his gaze to Sam. “Because the beast was kind, and compassionate and loyal. _That’s_ charming.”

Dean had never seen his brother turn quite that shade of red before. This day was going to provide him with _years_ of hazing material. “So, Cinders, Charming. When’s the wedding?”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, and Gabriel merely chuckled.

Dean looked from one to the other, and smiled. “You gotta let me have _some_ fun with it.” He sobered. “But it’s good to see you happy, Sammy. However it happened. I’m glad it did.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Gabriel said. “Well, at least until the next apocalypse!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please send me a comment. I love to hear from readers.  
> Even if you didn't like something, also comment.


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